This month’s excerpts are from the next stand-alone short story I plan to release (still working on the title). I don’t have a blurb yet either, but it’s about an American guy’s up-and-down relationship with a French girl.

In this scene, Daniel is on his way to the airport in Paris to fly back the the States.

* * * * * * * * * *

As the train pulls into Gare de Lyon, the first stop in Paris, Daniel jolts awake. The woman who had been sitting next to him is gone. He releases the tight hold he had on his bag and wipes the thin line of drool from his face. His head whips around as he checks to see if anyone has noticed his wet face, but no one meets his eye so he considers himself safe.

Mireille was good about that too; whenever he did something embarrassing, like drool in his sleep or spill wine on his shirt, she never pointed it out. He could always tell she noticed by the way she stared straight at the spot, but she never said anything.

Of all the things he misses about her, he thinks that might be one of the biggest: the little things that she let slide. And of all the things he regrets most about her, about what happened, he thinks the biggest is not letting those little things slide too.